


A story in which, the author regrets to confess, there is no parrot.

by greyathena



Category: Persuasion - Jane Austen
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 22:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17068676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyathena/pseuds/greyathena
Summary: As the War of 1812 continues to occupy the Royal Navy, newly married Anne Wentworth - determined to be a proper sailor's wife - has the opportunity to accompany her husband to the New World.





	A story in which, the author regrets to confess, there is no parrot.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Selenay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selenay/gifts).



It was _somewhat_ thrilling to be the wife of a naval captain in Lyme.

After all, the sea was different every day, and if there weren't boats going in or out there was still the walk on the Cobb, their friends to visit, the little Harvilles to watch making endless sand-castles, even the children selling fossils on the beach. And there were the newspapers, which Anne read assiduously whenever she could get them. The Times was quite concerned with the war in America, which suited Anne because surely Captain Wentworth's future lay in that direction.

It seemed certain that he would get another ship soon - a bigger and a better - and that given his successes against the French he must soon be dispatched to Canada. They heard little of official word in the days following their marriage, but unofficial word had Captain Wentworth destined for even perhaps a ship of the line, new-built, with a complement of fifty - nay, seventy guns. Of course Anne wasn't anxious for her new husband to be sent off into battle, but she sympathized with his restlessness and his desire for movement, and perhaps even more, for advancement.

"It's not for sure," he told her one afternoon when he returned for his tea, "but it seems I am likely to receive orders to sail within the month. Cartwright has it that I am to be given one of the new frigates being finished at the dockyards for the blockade of the Americans."

"And it will be finished within the month?" Anne asked, her heart beginning to pound.

"No - the ship, assuming this rumor has any truth . . . " He sat down beside her and accepted the cup she handed him. "It will be built in the colonies, either in St. John's or Bermuda. Cartwright's intelligence is that I will be transported to meet her - making it perhaps two months, perhaps three, before I would be ready to enter the fray."

"In America?"

"Most likely only enforcing the blockade but we'll see." He set cup in saucer and fixed her with a serious gaze. "What you must decide, my love, is whether you will join me or remain here. I assure you that either -"

"Join you on the frigate?" she interrupted.

"No, of course not."

Of course not. Anne served him a slice of cake and tried not to feel stupid.

"The question is, will you sail for St. John's with me - or St. George's, whichever it may be - and remain there until I return. Both are English colonies of course, and we would be able to take a very comfortable house in either - though you may find winter in St. John's even harsher than winter in Lyme, if it comes to that. But if you prefer to remain here it is entirely your decision."

This was what she had wanted, Anne reminded herself as she sipped her tea. To prove herself, as Sophia had done, not so frail and fragile a thing that she must be left behind not to see or hear from her husband for untold months. And it would certainly be a fragile creature who could not manage to relocate to _Newfoundland_ for a time. It was not precisely the unknown realms, when one encountered Newfoundlander sailors in the streets of Lyme.

"I think I should like that," she said slowly.

"You needn't decide now." He was looking at her anxiously, as if she might feel coerced. "You may wish to wait until we know for certain - they are very different places from one another, after all -"

"I'm sure I would find St. John's much like Lyme," Anne declared. "And if it be the other - come to that, I should like to see a parrot."

Her husband grinned. "You will have your wish someday, I'm sure. In a menagerie if nowhere else."

* * *

The day before Anne boarded a ship in Portsmouth that would take her and her husband to Bermuda, Frederick handed her a gift - a book. " _The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe, of York, Mariner, _" she read from the title page.__

__"I know you haven't read it," her husband said._ _

__"I have not." She held the volume closer to her face to read the smaller print. " _Who lived Eight and Twenty Years, all alone in an un-inhabited Island on the Coast of America, near the Mouth of the Great River of Oroonoque; Having been cast on Shore by Shipwreck, wherein all the Men perished but himself. With An Account how he was at last as strangely deliver'd by Pyrates_. Well! It does sound wonderfully horrid. I'm sure I will enjoy it on the journey, though I do hope we won't be ship-wrecked. Or, for that matter, encounter any pirates, friendly or otherwise."_ _

__"Oh, I think I can promise you a pirate or two, or twenty, on Bermuda."_ _

__Anne blinked. "Not really."_ _

__"Most of them prefer to be called 'privateers'."_ _

__"Isn't privateering legal?"_ _

__"Yes, that's why they prefer to be called that."_ _

__"I see." She did, a bit. At any rate she saw that life in the Americas was not likely to be dull._ _

__Anne was nervous stepping onto the ship, so concerned that she should appear calm and collected, and should not stumble on the gangplank, that she paid little attention to the import of the moment. That was saved for when she and Frederick were standing on the deck, watching the sailors scramble about hoisting anchors and raising jib-arms or whatever it was (she would learn over time). The most diverse assortment; from young boys to nearly toothless old men to strapping lads browned to a leather to men who, she was fairly certain, were brown from birth and not from the sun; ducked around and past her, with a respectful murmur of "Missus" that she owed to her husband's rank and station. And then, with the wind blowing the mist off the sea into her face, Portsmouth docks grew smaller and smaller, and the birds and even a dolphin or two came between them, and she was leaving England._ _

__A great wave lifted the ship and dropped it again, and she clutched the rail and first gasped, then laughed. "I expect it grows rougher, in open seas?" she asked._ _

__"Sometimes," Frederick replied. "Sometimes it is smoother out there, away from the land. Are you well? Not ill or anything?"_ _

__"No, I don't think so." Hand still firmly on the rail, she turned to look out to the Channel ahead. "We will be in sight of land for some time?"_ _

__"Intermittently. We'll sail around the Isle of Wight and then if it's very clear you may catch a glimpse of Penzance, perhaps. But then, open ocean."_ _

__"Fancy!" That she, only-Anne, just-Anne, should be on a passenger ship with rich merchants' wives, bound for the open Atlantic and the islands. No one would have credited it._ _

__They dined with the captain in his cabin the first night (and many thereafter) - another testament to Captain Wentworth's importance. The captain was perhaps as sun-browned and balding as Sir Walter could ever have feared, but he dressed like a gentleman and he was very kind._ _

__"Well, Mrs Wentworth," he said as a boy ladled chicken onto their plates. "How shall you amuse yourself on our voyage?"_ _

__"I have a great many books, of course," Anne said, watching with fascination as the boy poured wine in perfect synchronization with the rocking of the ship. "But I don't know how I shall make myself do anything other than watch the sea. Though perhaps if I'm going to make a habit of shipboard life, I'd better start learning to work my needle from a seat that moves."_ _

__"Ay, something needs mending eventually, don't it?" the captain said. "Though you're lucky you've married a seafaring man; he'll know how to do it himself."_ _

__"Indeed," Frederick laughed. "It would be hard if the entire navy had to go with missing buttons and undarned socks until port."_ _

__"You'll do your own socks then and welcome," Anne said. "No need for me to look out a laundress in St. George's."_ _

__"That's right, that's right!" the captain laughed. "You'll enjoy Bermuda I think. There are always parties and things like that going on." Anne must have looked uncertain, because he quickly added, "Oh, nothing wild! But there are plenty of English ladies, and Americans too, and they seem to be comfortable."_ _

__Anne, thinking of pirates, only smiled and ate her chicken._ _

__* * *_ _

__"It's pink," Anne said as they had their first view of the Bermuda coastline. "The boys said it was, but I thought they were making a fool of me."_ _

__"I could have told you that," Frederick said with a smile, his hand over hers on the rail. "It's famous for it."_ _

__"Something in the sand, I suppose. Look!" She pointed out into the waves where a dolphin leapt. "It's as if it followed us all this way."_ _

__"No parrots yet."_ _

__"No, but my eyes are open."_ _

__And they stayed that way, as they descended onto a bustling dock into warm, heavy, air; shouts in English and French and something that was neither; the rich smell of - was it cedar?; and the dashing about of small children of all colors. It was like Portsmouth and so unlike, though the sky above was the same wide, open blue._ _

__Anne _would_ not fall as she stepped onto solid land for the first time in a month. She clung to Frederick's arm to make sure. She would not be the delicate English lady to collapse on the dock before all her new neighbors!_ _

__"Is that a pirate?" she whispered, seeing a man striding through the crowd in clothes unlike any she'd ever seen, with a gold ring in his ear._ _

__"No, only an Indian," Frederick whispered back. "Didn't Mr Defoe teach you how to spot a pirate?"_ _

__"I thought the fashion in pirates might have changed in a century," Anne said, lifting her chin as she stepped over a puddle on the dock. "Look! a dog. It looks exactly like an English terrier."_ _

__"No doubt it is an English terrier." Frederick laid his hand over hers on his arm. "Are you glad you came?"_ _

__"Almost unbearably," she said, breathing deeply as they passed through the shade of a flowering tree. "Thank you for believing your sister."_ _

__"What?"_ _

__"Do you not remember being rather down on the idea of wives sailing? It was Sophy who convinced me that it was the only thing - her saying the only hardship was being left behind, nothing that happened on any of their journeys."_ _

__"Was it?" he asked, sounding truly astonished._ _

__"I'm grateful you listened, even if you don't remember." Anne leaned into him just for a moment. "I'm grateful to be with you, and I wouldn't have missed this for the world."_ _

__"Well. Then I'm glad." He looked ahead with a smile. "In a story, you know, a parrot would fly past just now."_ _

__Anne waited for just a breath, in case they were in a story._ _

__"I suppose parrots don't appear on demand," she said. "Never mind. Let us go and look at that pink sand."_ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for the opportunity to live at sea in my mind for a while - I hope you like it!


End file.
